


shake the leaves down

by frausorge



Series: we all have come together [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, San Jose Sharks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7086307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just Marc-Édouard and Justin left to make the return trip together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shake the leaves down

**Author's Note:**

> Title from (a translated version of) Rammstein's _Spiel mit mir_.

Marc-Édouard ends up alone in the car with Justin for the drive home. Burnzie rode up to the lake with them, but he jumps ship the afternoon they leave, spouting a story about Shep and Desi and a mythical diner somewhere that Marc-Édouard doesn't bother trying to follow, beyond grasping that they won't need to wait for him. So it's just Marc-Édouard and Justin left to make the return trip together.

Justin is quiet for the first hour or so, watching the hills wind by them. Marc-Édouard glances over from time to time, and Justin looks thoughtful, but not drawn with tension like he sometimes gets. So Marc-Édouard just focuses on driving.

It's not until they're past Folsom that Justin twists the cap back onto his water bottle, clears his throat, and says, "So, do you think it'll work?"

"You mean, like..." That's stalling, and Marc-Édouard knows it, but he feels like he should tread carefully here.

"Like, are we going to feel closer to each other now because we all got off together?" Justin actually turns to look at Marc-Édouard, eyebrows raised. Marc-Édouard grins quickly at him before looking back at the road. 

"Well, maybe," he says. It could make a difference in the room, he supposes, if not on the ice. He doesn't say that, though, because he has a sense that the question he needs to answer isn't about the team. "I, uh…" He really has to say something here. He felt gutted when Justin wouldn't look at him, there in the grass by the fire, and he just can't do that again. "I mean, I usually think about it the other way around."

"Oh," Justin says, and then he falls silent again. Marc-Édouard chances another look over. Justin's turned away from him now, staring out the window. But the side of Justin's mouth that he can see is turned up into a smile.

 

Monday morning Justin skates up next to Marc-Édouard and hip-checks him hard enough to knock him into Jason, who's waiting next in line for the drill. "Watch it, buster," Jason says, straight-faced. Marc-Édouard gets Justin in a headlock, snorting with laughter, until Jason sends the puck sailing straight back to him.

 

"Wanna hang out tonight?" Marc-Édouard asks after training a few days later.

Justin looks up from his laces. "Sure," he says. "I'll get some food- want anything special?"

"You pick," Marc-Édouard says.

"Ok," Justin says. "See you soon."

 

They eat on the couch in front of the news. The Giants lost to the Padres again, but still have a shot at a wild card. Marc-Édouard gets up to shove the leftover boxes into his fridge. When he comes back, Justin is sitting hunched forward with his head bent and his elbows on his thighs.

Marc-Édouard scratches at the back of his neck. "So," he says, "you wanna?"

Justin turns his head just enough to cast a glance sideways. "Sure," he says.

"What do you want to watch?"

"You pick," Justin says evenly.

Marc-Édouard puts on a threesome video he found a little while ago, one that he and Justin haven't watched together yet. Part of him thinks this is dumb, so dumb- he's something like 75% sure that he and Justin are on the same page, or could be, especially after last weekend, if he could get there, if he could make himself make a move. If he could feel sure that he's not just seeing what he wants to see. If he could forget the guys in junior who switched rooms and stopped speaking to him after he blew them.

But this is what they have, he and Justin, so he drops the remote onto the coffee table, leans back against the cushions, and shoves his hand into his track pants. On the other end of the couch, Justin is letting his knees sprawl wide, though there's still plenty of space between the two of them.

The two guys on the screen start kissing each other over the woman's bent back. Marc-Édouard glances over to see that Justin's face has gone bright red. Justin catches his eye and immediately looks away again. Justin's mouth is set in a determined line, though, and after a moment he pauses to tug his pants down around his thighs, freeing his dick. It juts up in a sharp curve, and the head of it is equally red, held in the circle of Justin's fingers and thumb. Marc-Édouard can't look away.

And maybe he doesn't have to. Justin's shifted on the couch, angling his body more towards Marc-Édouard, and letting his sighs and gasps spill out freely, like he wants to be seen and to be heard. That thought goes straight to Marc-Édouard's dick. 

He yanks at his own pants, trapping himself in a tangle of cloth till he manages to shift and tug and kick them off completely. Justin's watching him now, hand moving faster, rolled-down waistband cutting into his spread thighs. Justin's mouth has fallen open. He twists his wrist a few times at a different angle, a pattern Marc-Édouard is starting to recognize. His hips jerk, and then he's coming, right up the front of his own T-shirt.

"Fuck," Marc-Édouard grunts. Both of them twitch at the sound, and Marc-Édouard freezes with his hand around the base of his dick.

Justin bites his lip. He's holding his body very still. "I could-" he says, and then breaks off.

But Marc-Édouard can meet him halfway here. "Touch me," he says. "Come on, do it, I want you-" and Justin slides forward to wrap his fingers around Marc-Édouard's dick. He's looking down at it intently, his knee pressing against Marc-Édouard ‘s thigh, the edge of his palm nudging Marc-Édouard's own hand away. He strokes loosely at first before closing to a tighter grip, and it feels so good that Marc-Édouard can hardly breathe. 

"Fuck, come on," he hisses again. Justin looks up at his face, smiling a little. Then Justin starts jacking him at the fastest pace yet. Marc-Édouard swears one more time in his native tongue and comes.

He blinks a little, regaining his bearings, and sees Justin looking down at his handful of come. 

"Oh, uh, here," Marc-Édouard says, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the side table. Justin takes them, but his expression looks disappointed while he's wiping off his hand. He's starting to edge backwards, frowning slightly and putting more distance between them, and Marc-Édouard can't have that, not when it's taken them so long to get this far.

"Hey," he says, "hey, Justin, come here." He pulls Justin back in with a hand on the nape of his neck, and Justin tilts his face up to be kissed.

"All right?" Marc-Édouard says when he lets Justin go.

Justin looks him square in the eye. "All right," he says.


End file.
